


Chance Encounters: Life Day Edition

by Cinlat



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Life Day (Star Wars), Mandalorian, Snowball Fight, a few too many drinks, but i stand by it, cutest bothan ever, fake tattoos, fluffy stuff, future unamused cathar, made up Mando'a
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-10-20 03:09:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17614289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: This is a silly little Christmas gift to the lovelies that let me play in their world from time to time. I posted it on Tumblr back at Christmas, but I'm steadily moving those onto here.





	Chance Encounters: Life Day Edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keirra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirra/gifts), [Dingoat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dingoat/gifts).



> Fynta gets to celebrate with old friends and finds herself a new drinking buddy. Special shout out to Keirra (Noara), Dingoat (Ahuska), and Humanrevolt (Crow) for a wonderful year of fun. 
> 
> Since I strung a few of these together myself, Mando’a translations at the bottom. ;)

“Let’s go, people,” Fynta ordered in her best drill sergeant tone. “We’ve got two other cantinas on this spacestation to hit before midnight.”

“That’s not what those funds are allocated for,” Noara protested with a mild slur. The Jedi had given up on fighting about her limited stipend months back. Fynta was of the opinion that Noara wouldn’t get her proper payment until it was proven that she couldn’t live on what they’d given her. Fynta also used the housing of four, protein hungry soldiers as an excuse to do just that. It had worked, too. Noara had gotten a meager raise two months later.

Fynta grinned over her shoulder at the young Jedi. It was only her second Life Day celebration, and this time, they’d brought Tayl along to enjoy the merriment. Granted, the Dornes weren’t quite as buzzed as Fynta and Noara. They took in the lights and festivities with Tayl, reconnecting with the group between binges, while Aric nursed one drink per establishment because he didn’t trust Fynta and Noara unsupervised.

“Hey, boss, look at this.” Fynta stopped in the door of a cantina at Cormac’s hail. Balic and Elara stood to the side of a kiosk selling a plethora of instruments.

Cormac tugged one of the horns free, then yelped when more slid from the shelf in a racket of clangs. Elara held Tayl closer as she stepped back, while Aric pretended to see something more interesting across the aisle. By the time Fynta and Noara made it to the scene, Cormac wore a stupid grin as he slipped the straps of an outlandish contraption over his shoulders. He stomped experimentally, then looked at his friends.

With a shared glance, Noara and Fynta rushed forward to gather their own ensembles. Within minutes, minus a few bleary curses, all three were outfitted in a one-man band suit. “First person to get a tip buys the next round,” Cormac proclaimed as he stomped and jammed his hands together to make a racket that caused several people to veer off course.

Fueled by alcohol and the abandon of a night off from relic hunting for the Jedi council, Fynta and Noara joined in. A credit chit landed at Noara’s feet and she let out a cheer until her eyes landed on the benefactor. The stringed instrument in her hands clattered to the floor, and more off-tune notes followed as she stumbled over the instruments and into the arms of a laughing Torian Cadera.

“You made it,” Noara exclaimed, shaking herself free of the straps to better embrace her lover. Fynta paid for the band sets and smacked Cormac’s shoulder playfully when he glowered at the Mandalorian. Torian had been back in Cormac’s good graces for nearly a year, but Balic still blustered whenever he had the chance. Just as a reminder of who held Noara’s affection first. When Fynta asked about it, he’d claimed it was his brotherly duty to make Torian’s life hell until he made an honest woman of Noara.

“Alright you two,” Fynta said when she was finished with the booth owner. “No public displays of affection in clear view of anyone who can rat our little Jedi out.”

Torian grinned at Fynta over Noara’s shoulder. “Right.” With a wink, he looked back at his lover. “Should probably find a dark corner somewhere.”

“I know just the corner, too,” Fynta announced as she shoved between the young lovers with an arm around each shoulder. “You joining us, Cormac?”

Balic crossed thick arms over a broad chest and sighed. “Not yet. They’ve got a petting zoo in the bazaar that we’re taking Tayl to, but I’ll catch up later.” That had been the way of it since Noara had garnered permission for Elara and Balic to bring their son aboard. Whenever Havoc squad ventured out to let off some steam, Cormac hung back with his family until Tayl’s bedtime, then he and Elara took turns with outings. Such was the price of parenthood.

“Have fun, big guy. I’ll buy Elara those candies she likes since she has to stay home tonight.” Fynta stuck her tongue out at Cormac’s smart assed salute, then looked in the direction her husband vanished. “You coming, riduur?”

Aric wandered out from between a couple of stalls to join their group. He lifted an eyebrow at his wife from where she grinned between Noara and Torian. “You going to go as my date or theirs?”

“Hmm.” Fynta dragged the sound out, but dropped her arms when the Aric rolled his eyes. Slipping from between the youngsters, Fynta accepted Aric’s arm with an adoring smile. “I’m all yours, riduur.”

“What’s that?” Noara asked as they walked towards the next cantina. Fynta pulled Aric towards a vendor, then laughed when he groaned.  

“Artificial snowballs,” Torian answered with a sly look around. “Should we?”

Noara nodded vigorously, but before she could remark, Jorgan broke free of Fynta’s grip. “I’m out. Meet me inside when you’re done.” Within the space of a heartbeat, her husband vanished into the safety of the dimly lit cantina.

“There goes my date,” Fynta laughed as she paid the vandor for a dozen snowballs. When she turned to finger equally expectant looks on her friends’ faces, Fynta’s mirth grew. “Aric had some bad luck with these sticking in his fur a few years back. Nearly skinned Cormac and Vik for it.”

Torian huffed a laugh and returned to his purchase. While he was distracted, Fynta took several steps back and waited. The moment the artificial snow was in Torian’s hand, Fynta released her missile to watch it explode between his shoulders.

“Etyc nari.” The Mandalorian spoke in lowered tones, turning slowly to confront his attacker. 

Fynta grinned, then gave a shout of surprise when the retaliation came not from the man she’d struck, but from Noara. The cool, foam based glob smacked Fynta’s shoulder and dissolved into nothing. “Whose side are you on?” She shouted at her once Jedi ally while scrambling for cover.

Noara burst into laughter, then cut short when Torian tackled her out of the way of Fynta’s next volley. They went on like this for several minutes, Fynta only realizing the flaw in her choice of shelter when Torian slinked towards the vendor for a refill. There was no way for Fynta to get close to the man without making herself a target.

Fynta ducked behind a statue of someone who’d probably once been important as another snowball zipped past. For now, the commemorative was serving to keep her from being splattered. “Noara, using the Force is cheating!” Fynta shouted when one curved more than was natural.

“Says who?” The Jedi shot back, her words accompanied by another projectile. The snowball went wide of it’ target, but Fynta heard it burst against something that sputtered.

Turning slowly, Fynta came face to face with a familiar, elongated T-shaped visor. Her eyes flicked up into the amused, blue eyes of none other than her favorite Mando Bothan. “Ahuska!” Fynta grabbed the Bothan’s gauntlet and yanked her behind cover. “Hold on, they’ve only got two more.”

It only occurred to Fynta after Ahuska looked towards a human male that she didn’t have fake snowball stuck in her fur. The man, a handsome salt and pepper with some impressive tattoos on his face, brushed the rest of the white flecks from his armor. “Who’s your friend, Pout Snout?” He asked with an air of familiarity that surprised Fynta.

Fynta grinned at the name, then lifted a brow at Ahuska, curious how she’d introduce them. “This is Fynta, the vod that helped with that poaching ring a while back.” Fynta noted that she left out how they met, and the bruises that had accompanied it. “This is my riduur, Crow.” There was no mistaking the pride in Ahuska’s tone.

“Riduur?” Fynta’s shock drove her upright, and she barely noticed the snowball that splattered against her shoulder and neck. “Why didn’t you say anything last time?”

“It’s a relatively new occurrence,” Crow answer with a smirk. He had both thumbs shoved into his belt in a playful swagger that Fynta instantly liked. That, and his adoration for the little Bothan was impossible to miss.

“Kandosii,” Fynta replied, then turned toward Torian and Noara. “Save your creds, vod’ika.” Torian paused, eyeing Fynta warily. Her grin widened when she looked back at the newlyweds. “We’ve got something else to celebrate.”

* * *

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Noara laughed as Fynta called for another round of drinks on the Republic’s dime.

Fynta shook her head before knocking back a flaming–whatever it was called. “The Order gave you a week of leave,” something they had never done before Havoc came along, “which means you’re expected to spend more. It’s an unspoken rule. ”

Warmth flooded Fynta’s system as the alcohol wormed through her gut. “Besides, it’s our last night off. Enjoy.”

“They aren’t wrong, Jetii ad’ika,” Torian remarked in that easy way that he said everything. The Mandalorian had one arm braced over the back of Noara’s chair while she leaned against his chest. “You aren’t even paid a slave’s wage. Let Fynta get more where she can.”

Noara’s spine went rigid as she spun to look at Torian, who merely shrugged. “It’s no secret.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Aric chimed. “They’re right. You’re grossly underpaid for what–the work you do.”

Fynta gave a sage nod, pretending to miss the almost slip. Jorgan had been just as angry as her when they’d learned everything that Noara had been through in the name of the Order. To pull attention away from a conversation no one wanted to have, Fynta turned her shot glass over and offered a lopsided grin at Crow. “Your move.”

Aric sighed, but stayed out of the drinking game. Meanwhile, Noara eyed the empty glasses in the middle of the table longingly. Her gaze shifted from whimsical to mischievous when Torian leaned over to whisper in her ear. It was no surprise when the Jedi stretched, then yawned ten minutes later. “Well, I think I’m going to call it a night. Big day tomorrow.”

Fynta and Ahuska shared an unconvinced look before both warriors gave Noara their full attention. It was important for the Jedi to understand that she hadn’t pulled anything on the older females. Torian chuckled as he stood to follow. “I’m going to walk Noara to the ship. K'oyacyi.”

As the couple pushed from the table, Fynta leaned back to plop her feet in Noara’s vacated chair. “Cormac’s probably still awake,” she called after them, then laughed when Torian replied with a not so nice hand gesture.

“Since we’re all taking breaks,” Crow began, standing, wobbling, then catching his balance on the edge of the table. “I’ll be back to finish that bet.” Fynta had no doubt. The man could hold as much booze as she could, and seemed to be nearly as stubborn.

After Ahuska’s husband tottered out of sight, Fynta leaned over to check the datapad under the Bothan’s hand. “So, tell me about this tattoo Crow mentioned. How does that work on fur?”

Ahuska’s muzzle split into a wolfish grin even though she didn’t look up from her drawing. “Give me a marker and I’ll show you.”

Fynta looked around and stood when an idea struck her. The room spun for a second, she cursed, then started for the bar. It took some haggling and more than one threat from the barkeep before he would relinquish his prized writing utensil. Fynta bought another round of drinks just to prove that she was a nice person before making her way back to the table.

“Here,” Fynta said as she slid back into her chair. “One marker.”

Bright, blue eyes twinkled as Ahuska reached for it. “You trust me?”

Fynta laughed, then sobered with effort. She placed her prosthetic leg on the table between them and rolled the pant leg up as far as her thigh. “Have fun.”

A hint of sadness dulled Ahuska’s cheer as she ran a finger along one of the metal plates that protected Fynta’s leg. “I meant to ask, when did this happen?”

“Corellia,” Fynta answered, then waved away the Bothan’s concern. “I’m getting used to it. So, what sort of art do you have planned for me?”

Scooting her chair around, Ahuska placed her body in a way that blocked Fynta’s view of her progress. “Never thought I’d say it, but that Jetii’s not so bad.”

“Noara’s a good kid,” Fynta agreed. “We’re slowly converting her to our way of life. The Order’s got her shabla osik’la.”

Ahuska nodded, then swayed in her chair. Fynta eyed the number of empty glasses in front of the Bothan. She wondered if letting an inebriated artist draw on her was the best idea after all. If anything, it would make for an interesting picture come morning. “Got her a Mando boyfriend, too,” Fynta continued, wondering if Torian would pause to torment Cormac once they were on the ship.

“I noticed.” Ahuska giggled, a sound that seemed out of place. Fynta raised a brow at the back of the Bothan’s head. “How’d you end up with her?”

“I’m retired.” Ahuska looked over her should with an incredulous expression, and Fynta laughed. “From SpecForce. Plenty of fight in these old bones–well, the ones still attached,” she muttered after as an afterthought. “I won’t be hanging up my blasters any time soon though.”

Ahuska sat up suddenly. “Done.” While the Bothan forced her chair back to its original position, Fynta leaned forward to see her masterpiece.

A broad smile split Fynta’s features as she took in the masterful curves of her new tattoo. “It’s perfect.”

* * *

Fynta staggered onto the ship, noting that Noara’s door was shut tight, while Tayl’s stood open, and Balic and Elara’s cracked. Cormac had never made it back to the cantina, and Fynta hoped it was because he found something better to distract him here. No doubt Elara took advantage of having an empty ship for a few hours.

Aric sat against the headboard in their room with his datapad in hand. He looked up when Fynta bumped into the doorframe. “Expected you back over an hour ago.” He didn’t sound annoyed, but clearly would prefer to be asleep now instead of waiting on his wayward wife to stumble home. “Was about to come looking for you.”

Fynta waved a hand. “Crow has a higher alcohol tolerance than I expected.” She unsnapped her pants while fantasizing how sinking into that wonderful mattress and not moving for days.

“Who won?” Aric asked with a casual side glance. Fynta paused, searched her hazy memories, then shrugged. She wasn’t even sure that they’d finished the game.

Fynta had just kicked her pants to the side and reached for the hem of her shirt when Jorgan coughed. “What. Is. That?”

Not pausing in her undressing, Fynta wiggled her hips. “Think you’d know what a woman stripping off her clothes looked like by now, riduur.”

Ignoring Fynta’s dry wit, Aric clicked off his datapad. His eyes were focused on hers when Fynta emerged from behind her shirt. “When you left, you just had the one tattoo.” When Fynta didn’t catch on fast enough, he nodded toward her leg.

Fynta glanced down to see the overly buff, and very shirtless, character that looked suspiciously like her husband inked in vibrant black lines on her metal leg. “Oh.” memories from the pub, and the drinking game she’d gotten into with Crow, surged in so fast that Fynta snorted.

Covering her mouth and nose to stifle the giggles, Fynta fell onto the bed at Aric’s feet. “Apparently Ahuska likes to doodle when she drinks, and one thing led to another.” She lifted the leg in front of Aric’s less than amused face for a better look. “I think he looks just like you.”

The flesh and blood Cathar glared at Fynta with an expression eerily similar to the one drawn on her leg. When Fynta burst into another round of laughter, Aric sighed. “Is it permanent?”

“I hope so,” Fynta gasped between chuckles. Letting the leg fall back onto the mattress, she grinned at her husband. “Maybe I’ll get one to match on the other thigh.”

Leaning forward, Aric hovered over Fynta’s face with a look that should be concerning. In her inebriated state, Fynta couldn’t react in time when he flung the blanket over her head to drag her into an appropriate sleeping position. Fynta shrieked and fought against the confines while Aric did his best to keep her under wraps. His grip slipped, and Fynta broke free with enough force to roll Aric off the bed. He landed with a grunt on his back, and Fynta followed to pin her husband’s hands to the floor while her knees straddled his stomach.

“Alright,” Aric laughed. “You win.”

“If you’re going to fight dirty, love–” Fynta leaned down to place a quick peck on Aric’s lips and released his hands. “You’ve got to be committed.”

Pushing Fynta’s tangled hair from her face, Aric pulled her closer for a more thorough embrace. His hand dropped to the doodle on her left thigh, bringing Fynta’s attention back to it. “It’s actually pretty good,“ he admitted. They both angled to see the two-dimensional soldier glaring at them. He chuckled. "Let’s see how long it sticks around.”

Fynta leaned forward to prop her elbows on Aric’s chest while she smirked. “Happy Life Day, riduur.”

With a smack to Fynta’s rear, Aric pushed himself upright. “Nope, that ended two hours ago. We report for duty in twelve hours.” Fynta cursed and looked at the chrono. Sure enough, it was almost time to rejoin to the real world.

Aric dragged Fynta back onto the mattress, then went to retrieve their blanket. “Come on, Major. Time to get you to bed.”

Fynta sighed as Aric enveloped her in warmth, then again when he settled behind her with an arm and leg draped over her body. Fynta was vaguely aware of his lips against her temple before sliding into an alcohol-induced slumber that promised one hell of a headache come morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando’a translations:
> 
> Etyc nari: dirty move  
> Kandosii: Nice one  
> vod’ika: Little brother  
> Jetii ad’ika: little Jedi  
> K'oyacyi: Stay alive  
> shabla osik'la: really screwed up


End file.
